


The Holly and the Ivy

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Holidays, M/M, Musical References, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-09
Updated: 2009-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rising of the sun and the running of the deer....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holly and the Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> So I was looking at the prompts at [](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinadvent/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinadvent/)**merlinadvent** and saw this:
> 
> Day Nine; Decorating! The time of Yuletide creeps ever closer, and Camelot is in serious need of some festive redecorating; Merlin doing so in a less than traditional manner, armies of servants covering the castle in holly and mistletoe, or just Arthur being a prat and making Merlin move the decorations just a little bit more to the left. [Prompts; mistletoe. Christmas tree. Holly. "You look ridiculous. But I forgive you."]. And I flashed on the carol, and this story bubbled out. For me, the definitive version of the carol is the Walford Davies arrangement as sung by King's College Choir: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7eHtDtZ7hs  
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I claim no ownership and am making no money. The show Merlin belongs to Shine and the BBC, but Merlin and Arthur belong to themselves and everyone who loves them.  
> WARNINGS: Schmoop from here to Albion and back.

  
**Entry tags:** |    
[arthur/merlin](http://adarog.livejournal.com/tag/arthur%2Fmerlin), [christmas](http://adarog.livejournal.com/tag/christmas), [fic](http://adarog.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [merlin](http://adarog.livejournal.com/tag/merlin), [music](http://adarog.livejournal.com/tag/music)  
---|---  
  
The holly and the ivy,  
When they are both full grown  
Of all the trees that are in the wood  
The holly bears the crown  
O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir

  
"Why are we doing this again?" Merlin huffed. His hands were so cold he could barely feel the pricking of the stiff green holly leaves, even through his mitts.

  
"To decorate the castle, Merlin," Arthur said. He was the one wielding the shears, cutting off the boughs of holly, and he was wearing proper gloves, as befitted his rank and station.

  
"At this rate it's going to be decorated with drops of blood from my lacerated hands," Merlin observed. Arthur dropped another bristling hunk of holly into his arms.

  
"Well, then, you'll just have to clean it up, won't you?" Arthur grinned. Merlin puffed a cloud of warm, rude, irritated breath in his direction.

  
"I suppose you didn't do this sort of thing in Ealdor." Arthur circled around the tree, waving his shears speculatively, and Merlin followed.

  
"The only reason we ever cut wood in the winter was to burn it." Merlin stamped his feet. "And a good roaring fire would be just brilliant right now." Arthur's boots, of course, were heavier and better lined than Merlin's.

  
"I think you can bundle the holly onto the cart," Arthur said. "Now we've got to find some really good fir trees."

  
Muttering under his breath and bleeding quietly into his mittens, Merlin stomped back to the cart. Maybe he could get the horses to breathe on his hands a bit.

  
The holly bears a blossom  
As white as lily flower  
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ  
To be our sweet Saviour  
O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir

  
Merlin couldn't help but being astonished by the white flowers. He knew Arthur would make fun of him, but he'd never seen flowers in midwinter before. Morgana had forced them from the bulb in a little room kept warm and moist, with help from Gwen and a couple of other maids. It was a kind of springtime in the midst of the snow that piled the windowsills and filled the courtyards of the castle, that turned to brown slush in the streets of Camelot.

  
"Pretty, aren't they?" Arthur said. Merlin turned to look at him. The prince was standing by one particularly large specimen, his hand spread out around the small white blooms as if to shield them from wind or cold, not quite touching. Merlin had done the same thing to another potted flower, almost but not quite touching them. He remembered that, after all, the prince had brought him here to show him the flowers.

  
"They're beautiful," he said, looking at Arthur.

  
The holly bears a berry  
As red as any blood  
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ  
To do poor sinners good  
O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir

  
There hadn't been much religion in Ealdor; there hadn't really been time for it. And unlike in Camelot, servants and peasants didn't come up to hear Mass at Cendred's chapel and then feast in the great hall.

  
Merlin stood stiffly still at Arthur's elbow in his red livery (minus the hat, thank goodness). He wasn't familiar with the service--in fact, he'd never been to one--but it was interesting, and rather beautiful, with lots of candles, clouds of incense, and sonorous chanting that made him sort of drift with the sound, since he couldn't understand the words. The priest and the monks or whatever they were all wore beautiful gold and white robes, but they were outshone in Merlin's eyes by Arthur himself, standing silent and collected. The prince's doublet was so thick with gold embroidery Merlin couldn't be sure what color the fabric really was, and he was wearing his coronet. The king, too, was crowned, with a rich red and gold mantle over his armor, although all the other men present were bareheaded.

  
When everyone began to move forward in two lines, Merlin went too, although he wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to. Surely if he weren't, Arthur would tell him to stay put, but Arthur just moved forward with bowed head, his face oddly serious.

  
Merlin watched Arthur's broad back, the set of his shoulders, as they walked forward and stopped, walked forward and stopped. He was quite unprepared when he came face to face with a short bald man dressed in white and gold, holding up a bit of something white. Merlin opened his mouth, uncertain, and before he could speak, the white and gold man popped the white thing into his mouth. It was small and dry and had almost no taste, and Merlin chewed it a bit and swallowed and followed Arthur back to his place.

  
Arthur stood with bowed head and hands clasped. Was he praying? Merlin lowered his head a bit and watched under his eyelashes as other people went up to get a white thing from the short bald man. Why were they all doing this? The dry white bit felt rather stuck in his throat, and he swallowed a bit.

  
The holly bears a prickle  
As sharp as any thorn;  
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ  
On Christmas Day in the morn.  
O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir

  
Merlin woke in the middle of Christmas night, thinking for a moment that he had heard the dragon calling him. But no; and it wasn't Gaius, either. He could hear Gaius snoring on the outer chamber, and that made the silence over the rest of the castle seem stiller and deeper.

  
Not quite knowing why, he got out of bed, pulled on his boots, and wrapped himself in his heaviest cloak, which had finally dried out completely after his greens-gathering expedition with Arthur. He took the stub of a candle with him, not lighting it until he was out in the empty hall, past Gaius, and then he flicked his fingers over the wick and it came alive. By that small light he found his way back to the chapel and slipped in, all by himself.

  
In the midnight dark it still smelled of incense, of the many candles, a few of which were still burning, and of the evergreens that decorated its walls. And it smelled of something else, or felt of something else, something Merlin had noticed earlier but had not been able to discern, too distracted by Arthur and the music and what all.

  
Merlin crept through the chapel to where a single large candle burned within a red glass. Beside the candle, illuminated by its curiously steady light, was a statue of a mother holding a baby. Merlin had a vague idea that this was Jesus and his mother and Christmas in Camelot had something to do with them. The lady wore blue and white and had a gold crown over her blue veil. The baby was naked, with a disc of gold behind its brown curly head, but its eyes were blue, like Arthur's, and they seemed to peer at Merlin with awareness in the flickering light.

  
Too much light: What? Merlin looked around, saw the distant candles here and there, the large candle before him, the guttering stump in his hand... and a faint gold-white glow coming from within the statue. He reached out one finger and just touched the baby's cheek, and saw, unmistakably, the glow surround his finger and turn the tip a brilliant pink as it shone through his flesh.

  
The candle in Merlin's hand guttered out, but he was still able to find his way back to the tower room.

  
The holly bears a bark  
As bitter as any gall;  
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ  
For to redeem us all.  
O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir

  
"Presents?" Merlin yelped. "But I don't have anything--I didn't know--"

  
"It's all right, Merlin." Gwen gave him one of her "fondly exasperated" looks. "You didn't know? you didn't exchange gifts back home? Well, you'll know next year. Really, it's all right. A gift doesn't mean you have to give something back." She kissed his cheek and scurried away.

  
She must have knitted the mittens herself. They were a beautiful blue color and much thicker and warmer than his old pair. And she had tied them up with a length of gold ribbon that must have been Morgana's.

  
When Gaius gave him a new pillow, a real feather pillow stuffed with goosedown, Merlin really began to worry. He could make it up to Gwen and Gaius by helping them out, well, helping them more than usual, and of course he wouldn't forget to give presents next year, but what if *Arthur* gave him something? How could he possibly make that up? And wouldn't Arthur tease him for being such an idiot he didn't even know how to give gifts at Christmas?

  
The holly and the ivy  
Now both are full well grown,  
Of all the trees that are in the wood,  
The holly bears the crown.  
O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir

"What are we doing out here, again?" Merlin grumbled.

"We're hunting, Merlin." Arthur took a deep breath of the cold, crisp (very cold, very crisp) air and huffed it as if he enjoyed it. "Good for you. Builds character."

Merlin snorted. "Pratly character, maybe," he muttered. Arthur, grinning like an idiot, his face already ruddy with the chill, merely strode off into the snow, not listening, as usual. Perforce, Merlin followed.

They left tracks in the snow, the first tracks of any living thing. The woods ahead seemed darker and yet clearer as the sun rose behind them, shining through bare branches and green needles. A single crow crossed the clear white sky, calling. If he hadn't been trying to keep up with Arthur while carrying a satchel, Merlin might have thought it a lovely morning.

"Look--there." Arthur stopped, one arm out so that Merlin trudged into it. "Down in that little hollow."

A red-brown shape moved at the verge of the woods--a single deer, nosing around a berry-laden holly bush. The two young men watched it, as still and silent as they had stood in church. After what seemed a moment, but might have been a long while, the deer looked up, looked at them, and bounded into the woods. Its liquid dark eyes reminded Merlin somehow of the statue in the chapel.

"Are we going after it?" he said, hesitantly.

Arthur had his bow in his hand and a quiver full of new arrows on his back. He stared into the distance; the rising sun gilded his ruddy face, and that, too, reminded Merlin of the statue and its mysterious glow.

"No." He turned to Merlin. "Here, I think there's a flask of wine in that bag."

Merlin fished around in the satchel, wondering suddenly why it was so bloody heavy, since Arthur was carrying his own gear. The first thing that came to hand was a pair of boots. He squawked.

"Why am I out here freezing my bits off, not to mention my feet, and carrying a spare pair of *boots* for you?"

Arthur peered down his nose at the boots. "Those aren't *my* boots, Merlin. My feet are much broader. Those are for someone with very narrow feet... in fact," he took the boots, held them up, and then thrust them at Merlin, "they're yours."

Merlin's indignation faded as it registered that these were new boots. New boots of black leather, lined with sheepskin, and yes, narrower (and longer) than anything Arthur could wear. He reached out and took them from the prince.

"For me... from you?" was all he managed to get you.

"Yes, idiot." Arthur's expression was very close to Gwen's "fond exasperation". "Happy Christmas, Merlin." He took the satchel from Merlin and quickly pulled out the stone flask of wine.

"Mm, still feels warm." Arthur uncorked the bottle and took a swig. "Ah, here, you look like you need it." He thrust the bottle to Merlin's lips, and Merlin sputtered pleasantly over warm mulled wine and a clove that got stuck in his teeth.

"Let's go back," Arthur said, the bottle having been emptied. Merlin felt amazingly warm... must be the wine.

"I don't have anything for you," Merlin ventured. "I didn't--"

"It's all right." Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and coughed. "Morgana kind of warned me you might not."

"But I want to," Merlin heard himself say. He stopped, and of course Arthur stopped, too, turning back to him. "I want to give you something--"

The sun glinted blindingly off Arthur's fair hair and lit up the blue of his eyes. Without thinking any further, Merlin curled one mittened hand around the prince's neck, stepped close, and kissed him.

Arthur tasted of wine and spices, cold air and sweetness, a sweetness like the incense still lingering hours after it had burned out. His gloved hand coming up to lay warm on Merlin's cheek and ear was another kind of sweetness.

When the kiss ended, Merlin tilted his forehead against Arthur's. His feet were colder than ever, but he still felt warm all over. "Happy Christmas, Arthur."

O the rising of the sun  
And the running of the deer  
The playing of the merry organ  
Sweet singing of the choir


End file.
